Page 94 of The Dark Wolf's Deliverance

‘I will. Who knows, maybe if I get bored, I’ll amuse myself and send this one to hell with a smile on her face, eh.’

Men’s laughter, brutish, all around her.

‘Be on your way then.’

As he pushed her ahead of him, further into the bowels of the castle, Kenna decided there and then to tell him anything, so long as he didn’t torture her. She was already dead as far as the justice was concerned, and now they just wanted a smidgeon of legitimacy for their cruelty. And if she didn’t tell them, they would make it up anyway. She was powerless and alone. Best spare herself hours of agony and succumb to her fate. She would most likely be the most notorious Moncur of them all, executed as a witch.

They seemed to walk forever, as she grew colder and colder, down endless stairways. Perhaps the man was working his way up to his awful task. If he had any scruples buried somewhere deep inside him, maybe she could reason with him, but that was impossible with the gag in.

Suddenly Kenna felt fresh air on her face. They were out in the open and she could hear a rushing sound, like a river. Oh God, was he going to drown her, hold her head under until the breath left her lungs. It was getting closer now, the sound of the water. She could see it in her mind, gushing against the banks. She couldn’t let him, oh it would be so cold. She wanted to run, she had to. She screamed into the gag, twisting and turning, clawing at the man’s face as he tried to restrain her, fighting with all the strength she had left.

Strong arms grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off her feet. ‘Kenna, easy now, I have you. It’s alright, hush. We must be quiet.’

Conall’s voice! It couldn’t be! Her heart started hammering even faster. She was hoisted upwards and down into something solid yet moving, and more arms came around her.

‘She’s terrified, keep her still, or she’ll tip the boat over, and we’ll be done for.’ Duncan’s voice.

‘I had to blind and gag her, else she might have given herself away. I wanted her frightened to fool the guards,’ hissed the man, barely audible over the sound of the river.

Kenna heard the soft slap of oars hitting the water, the boat lurched, and an arm steadied her as she rocked backwards.

‘Did you have to strip her too?’ Conall’s voice was angry.

‘Couldn’t take her out in her fine dress. Someone may have recognised it.’

‘If you’ve touched her, Penhale….’

‘Quiet now, all of you.’ Duncan’s voice was hard.

Someone took off the sack, and Kenna could see the prow of a boat sliding out from the bank into the pull of the current. It was very dark, but she recognised Conall’s voice, even though the dark hood pulled up around his head left his features in darkness.

‘I am taking the gag off now, my love, but you mustn’t make a sound, not one word,’ he whispered. ‘All our lives depend on it. Do you understand?’ He released it, and Kenna swallowed hard. ‘We have to slip past the castle unseen, and there are watchmen on the walls.’ He laid a blanket around her shoulders and pulled her into the crook of his arm. ‘Stay down and quiet. I will explain everything later.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘You didn’t leave me in a cage to die, so there was no way I was going to leave you.’

Hunkered down in the boat, Kenna risked a glance upwards. The walls of Edinburgh Castle towered over them, lit by torches set high on its battlements and the odd window here and there showing the flickering light of candles within. Huge, impenetrable, deadly, Kenna could scarcely believe she had escaped its clutches, as they slid gently past it into the night.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The beach was deserted in the chilly dawn. The horses stood close together with their heads down and eyes closed to shut out the sand blowing about them in the gusty wind. It was raising a huge swell out to sea, tossing about the ship tethered on the horizon and sending waves crashing against the shore. It would be hard to row the boat back out if it got much worse. Thank God for Will Penhale and his dubious associates down at the docks.

He had been able to arrange passage to Ireland for Kenna and Conall secretly. The captain of the merchant vessel had been paid well to stop his ship in the sheltered cove on its way north and pick up two passengers. No doubt, the trip had been made many times before for the purposes of smuggling. Conall hoped it was not a trap, for Will was well away by now, on the road south to London, his pockets stuffed with Murray’s silver.

Having come ashore just outside of Edinburgh, they had collected horses and ridden hard through the night to leave it well behind. Kenna’s disappearance would have been discovered by now, so they did not have much time. He had to get his father and the others well away as soon as could be. So the time had come to say goodbye, and here he stood, dismayed that Murray was gone and Rory remained at Dunslair, and he could not take his leave of them. Conall thought his heart might break just at that, but now he had to face his father.

‘I wish with all my heart you didn’t have to go,’ said Duncan. ‘I can hide you while I work on getting Kenna a pardon. I have some influence in London with the King. I am sure I can secure one. I just need time.’

‘Time we don’t have. Father, Kenna has a death sentence hanging over her. We cannot stay in Scotland because it’s too risky. Better to get far away, start a new life, where no one knows us and no one can reach us.’

His father grabbed him by the shoulders and looked down at the sand. His fingers were digging in tightly, and when he looked up, Conall swore he could see tears in his eyes. He fought hard to keep them from his own, then took a deep breath. He couldn’t be weak. This might be the last time he ever saw his father.

‘I am sorry for the strife I have caused, sorry for the pain my mother will feel. I wish I could see her one last time to say goodbye. Tell her I love her. Do that for me.’

‘I will, son. As long as you are safe, she can bear it. That it has come to this. That I must cast you out to sea and not see you for….’ He sniffed and drew a hand across his nose.

‘I wish I could have made you proud.’

‘Proud!’ Duncan gasped. ‘Every day, since you first drew breath, I have been proud of you, Conall. I have never been more proud of you in my whole life than I am at this moment. Who you are, the man you have become, it humbles me, your strength, your courage, the love you bear this girl and your sacrifice for her sake. It humbles me to have made such a man as you, and I love you, son, I love you more than I’ve ever been able to say.’ Tears were running down his cheeks, his face crumpling with distress.

Conall almost lost control. His father never cried, never faltered, so to see him hurting this way was awful. He has to be strong now for both their sakes.

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